


Flights of Fantasy

by Anonymous



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Case Fic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Peter teaches Nightingale about pop-culture, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:05:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: If seeing a tarantula up close upsets you, imagine being face to face with one that's ten feet tall and crouching on the wall above your head.Peter and Nightingale watch a Fantasy movie together, but things get out of hand as one of the film's monsters shows up in the Folly for what Peter hopes is not a midnight snack.





	Flights of Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> This was original posted on LJ. Since I no longer use LJ, I decided to archive it here.

The London City area is considered to be one of the capitals of higher education in the world. Here, about four dozen universities and colleges produce academic greatness situated within a stone's throw of each other. In fact, a stone thrown anywhere in West London will most likely hit someone in possession of a postgraduate degree. 

If you believe knowledge of this fact can cause a man ambling through certain parts of the city on a regular basis to develop a number of inferiority complexes – well, you're not entirely wrong. But the kind of jealously ignited depends on the particular campus you're hanging out on, and whether or not you're the kind of person who envies the relaxed daily routine of a poor stoner who hasn't realised yet the extent of the student debts he's accumulated in just a handful of semesters.

I had been called to one of these exalted places of learning on suspicions of supernatural goings-on in a library building that required the attention of the Folly. Walking up to the imposing Senate House Library I found it easy to see why it had inspired George Orwell when he wrote 1984: Its angular, looming bulk looked more suited to an oppressive seat of power than a liberating seat of knowledge. Fittingly, upon entering these hallowed halls I was greeted by an art décor hell that reminded me more of an upper-class shopping mall taken out of a fascist dystopia than a library. Why none of the people working here had ever made a public grab at world domination was a mystery for the ages.

Shaking off the overwhelming hunch to confess crimes I hadn't committed to spare me untold tortures I headed down the hall to the nearest information desk. Once arrived I hid the feelings of inadequateness that I experienced in the face of a stream of undergraduates who looked like teenagers, but would probably soon earn thrice my pay, by flaunting my status of being part of the grown-up and manly world of the workforce. After all, I was being employed in the honoured and sought after position of the littlest and least skilled magician's apprentice in the entire Met. 

Of course I didn't actually tell anyone about this last bit while I was flashing my ID card at members of the university staff. 

At least my room in the Folly was larger than any dormitory room could ever hope to be. 

Eventually they led me to the person whose complaints were responsible for my department being called in. Even then I stuck to the usual cover-up phrases instead of admitting what the Folly really was, and asked to be shown the sites of the supposed hauntings.

For the last few weeks students had been repeatedly reporting hallucinations all over the library floors. Frightful faces, spectres, monsters appeared to them, usually in the evenings when there weren't many people around. One of the kids had been spooked on a landing on the second floor and fallen. She's going to make a full recovery according to the hospital, but she couldn't report anything more useful than having imagined a tiger coming at her from upstairs. 

Other departments already investigated whether she could have been pushed by the only witness – who claimed didn't see anything out of the ordinary while her friend screamed about monsters – but eventually concluded it had been an accident. Specialists have been looking for the ever popular gas-leaks and their cousins and found nothing. 

As I was led from floor to floor of this Ministry of Truth, catching not even a few curious glances from the student body, I counted my blessings: At least I didn't have to do any undercover work for this case that required me to pretend to be a student. I didn't particularly enjoy the thought of finding out how the 30 year old actors had felt playing a 17 year old on an American 90s sitcom. On top of that I'd die of embarrassment trying to keep up with the latest social networking trends. 

Now, I like to believe that I'm hip, but mostly within my own age group. Whatever these college kids were up to, I'd end up looking like Nightingale tasked to set up a Facebook profile for the department. Now there's an image of Memento Mori for you.

Knowing these were the kinds of thought stuck at the back of my mind you can probably imagine my relief when I got to leave the building after determining that there were absolutely no traces of magic to be found around any of the suspected haunted spots. Not a hint of vestigia anywhere. I had even taken Toby with me just to be sure – much to the horror of the library staff. 

Cases like this would be much easier if only Nightingale would let himself be convinced to request certification for Toby as a very special K-9 unit. But so far all my suggestions for an official "divining dog" or "ghost dogtector" certificate have been cruelly shot down. 

The most suspicious finding had been a powdery, white substance leaving spots on the carpet at one of the sites. But Toby's nose and tongue had confirmed that it was nothing more sinister than powdered sugar. The staff claimed that the carpets got cleaned regularly, but a couple of students with a sweet tooth sneaking snacks into a library were hardly magical. There was no magic here apart from the magic inherent in any kind of candy. 

But it had been somewhat harder to convince the staff that Toby was a proper police dog after that incident.

I headed out of the heart of the university complex before anyone got it into their head to complain about the stains of dog slobber on the carpet, and was on my way back to the car with Toby at my heels when a smell sent from heaven arrested both our steps. It wafted out onto the pavement from an open-fronted food stall on wheels, sitting near the university premises. 

I couldn't help a cursory look and realised someone was selling Belgian waffles, so I headed over. After I had escaped the oppression of the Orwellian nightmare library that despite my arrival in the late afternoon had been entirely too full of students with unnervingly innocent faces I decided I deserved some sugar. I had spent hours crawling over the space, while praying my dog wouldn't end up destroying thousands of pounds worth of text books and shelving structures. You don't need to be studying economics to know that books with four lengthy subtitles don't come in the numbers that make for a cheap print run. 

Walking up to the booth I was greeted by a gorgeous girl with naturally textured hair and a light, endearing Puerto-Rican accent. She looked like a student earning herself a bit of pockent money. But at least this student looked like she was past the legal drinking age. 

"Wanna buy a waffle?" she asked.

I did, and I trusted her not to have baked anything into the pastry that shouldn't have been in there. Didn't even ask whether the management had approved the sale. Being a suspicious bastard is part of a copper's nature, but so's an appreciation for fast food. And these waffles didn't look so fluffy or sugary that I needed to fear for my manly reputation if I enjoyed one.

Besides, I already the mentioned the girl selling them was gorgeous.

"Enjoy," she said when she handed me the pastry and enjoy it I did. So much that I decided to get another half dozen to supplement the usual take-away food I'd have tonight in lieu of whatever Molly had in store for me. It can be argued that seven are probably more thick, fried waffles than even a healthy young man needs in one evening, but the student had a great smile. 

While her equally pretty white friend prepared my order I asked the curly haired saviour of my glucose level whether this sale was a one-time thing. I didn't expect to be called back to the campus, but if I did at least I would have something to look forward to besides crawling over the library floor praying my dog didn't pee on expensive things or started munching away on the carpet again.

"Someone sells one thing or the other every couple of weeks," the student said, playing with her hair. "Muffins, pancakes; today it's waffles."

"Even in the evening?" It was getting a bit late for the majority of the student body to still having to sit through lectures.

"Usually the batter runs out before the customers do." She smiled again and the heavens opened. "Tonight it's a bit slow, but we'll be here again tomorrow, at least until the movie club gathers. They're usually up for a snack."

As if on cue my waffles were ready and handed to me. I refused having them topped up with sugar this time. It'd only get sticky during the car ride.

"Come back if you feel like it." The gorgeous student flashed me a beaming smile that was impossible not to return, her full lips parting to reveal a set of brilliant white teeth. "I'm Paula."

* * *

When I returned to the Folly I let Toby into the main building through the back door for his dinner and saw there was light in my tiny flat in the coach house. This was not entirely unusual as not every resident of the Folly respected personal space as much as I did and after all I'm the only one owning a TV. Still I proceeded up the stairs cautiously in case it was Molly who had dropped by and who'd doubtlessly feel offended by my waffles – although not as much as parts of my anatomy had previously been offended by her cooking.

Even before I opened the door I gathered from the noise that the TV was on. But it wasn't Molly I found on my couch, and it wasn't Lesley either - who was away on a seminar anyway. It was Nightingale. 

I hadn't forbidden him from using my TV, in fact, I encouraged it, and above all this was still his place technically, but I'd never expected he'd ever take me up on my offer. And one look at the TV screen confirmed he'd come to watch the Lord of the Rings of all things. The second movie.

I almost dropped my waffles.

"Peter," he said, looking at least somewhat apologetic about pushing my earth off its axis while walking trees carried a pair of hobbits across the TV screen. "Molly is doing some cleaning up and doesn't need me around, so I'm paying you a visit."

"She's cleaning?" It was not normally an activity that required banishing the other inhabitants of the Folly. 

I put the waffles down and slipped out of my cloak. 

"While you were out I was working in the basement, tidying up some old paraphernalia, put into storage long ago."

This story was going to end up either horrifying or amazing.

"I took one of the artefacts upstairs to be cleaned and it appears to have reacted to Molly's cooking next door." 

"Did something explode?"

"No." He frowned at my lack of faith.

"What was it? A crystal ball?"

But Nightingale's frown only deepened.

"Do we need a plumber?" Or a magical plumber? _Were there magical plumbers_? Did they fight dragon turtles over kidnapped princesses?

"Molly is going to handle it, but she prefers me out of the house for a couple of hours to do it."

Well that was a first.

And all of it had happened while I'd been stuck in the university library hunting for ghosts that weren't there. 

"Looks like you found the right movie," I said, finally sitting down next to him. "It's three hours and I believe they show the third one right after it."

"How was your trip to London University, by the way?"

I brought him up to speed but Nightingale did not have much of a reaction to the news that there was no magic at the university. As if he had expected it to be a false alarm. As if he had preferred me out of the house to do his tidying up as much as Molly did now.

I knew he had good reasons for not wanting a half trained apprentice around his old magic relics, but it wouldn't have hurt me to know what he was planning on doing beforehand. I admit I also would have both loved and dreaded to see that accident happen.

Swallowing my pride I turned my attention towards the TV screen. Maybe some teacher-student bonding by means of a big-budget fantasy blockbuster was just what we were missing, and even though I don't agree with all of Peter Jackson's directorial choices I happen to quite like these movies.

"If we watch this together, are you going to complain about inaccurate portrayals of magic?"

"I know what fiction is, Peter."

I offered him a waffle in apology, but I can't deny that the thought of Nightingale critiquing Gandalf's style cheered me up.

Since he had only tuned in for the second one I recapped the plot of the first movie for him and asked him how he'd come to stick with the movie anyway if he had missed the first one. He replied that he had recognised one of my quotes and got curious, which quelled my disappointment at not having been around for the accident slightly.

With the help of waffles and beer we made it almost all the way through the Return of the King before I caught him napping off right before the first of the ending montages. 

I sent him back to the Folly yawning, and he thanked me for the food without mentioning the incident again that had lead him here. Perhaps I could Lesley to help me question him about it once she got back. She could be fierce in interrogation situations. Of course Nightingale picked a day for his spring cleaning when we were both out of the house. 

Once he was gone I stayed up to see Frodo Baggins set out to Valinor before I made my own way to crash on the couch thinking of hobbits and waffles and doomsday devices locked in the Folly's cellar. 

The best kind of prerequisite for a good night's sleep. 

Accordingly I wasn't surprised when I woke up in the middle of the night with a headache. What did surprise me was realising that it was more than having too much sugar and possibly a nightmare that woke me. There were noises coming from outside. Scratches. 

Armed with a flashlight I opened the door to what I expected was Toby. There was no sign of the little terrier, but something skittered away into the darkness around the mews. Whatever it was, it was much larger than Toby.

Since I'm brave but not stupid I sacrificed a second to put on a sweater before I headed outside to investigate. In case it had just been a mundane burglar checking if anyone had been home in the coach house I decided to stick to the flashlight instead of sending a werelight ahead of me, but the hairs raised on my neck would have preferred some showy, flashy magic.

I rounded the mews twice but found nothing, nor any sign of there ever having been anything. Upon returning to the my small flat in the I took one look at the couch and upon a hunch decided to spend the night in my room in the main building after all. 

I was headed to the Folly's rear entrance when the scratching returned. This time I summoned a werelight, but again there was nothing there when I turned around. I raised the werelight a bit, increasing its radius, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. That is, until I heard the scratching again and realised it was coming from above. 

Like the fool that I was I looked up.

I let out a yelp and stormed into the building, and trust me, you would have done the same if you were out one night and Shelob, daughter of Ungoliant, stared back at you out of multiple rows of beady, slimy eyes. If seeing a tarantula up close upsets you, imagine being face to face with one that's ten feet tall and crouching on the wall above your head.

It goes without saying that I shouted for my boss at the top of my lungs once I had slammed the door shut behind me. I almost ran into Molly when I passed the stairs to the kitchens at top-speed. She gave me a particularly dirty look for disturbing Nightingale at this hour, but I happen to believe that a giant spider besieging the building is a perfectly good reason to summon the big guns.

Perhaps I could have attempted to send a fireball its way on my own, but after the continued lack of spectacular results at the shooting range I preferred to leave the fireballs to someone with more practice at burning holes into tank-sized objects. 

I raced into the atrium with Molly following behind me, intending to rush upstairs to wake Nightingale. There was no need for it, as I found him already awake and looking down at me from behind the balustrade upstairs. I started to explain what was going on, but even though I didn't waste time on being eloquent while the dread spider's spawn could crawl down the hall any moment, I didn't get far. 

A sound like claws clicking on a marble floor echoed out of the corridor Molly and I had just come through, growing louder before fading away again. I shut up immediately. Molly hissed in that direction and I could feel my mouth become dry. 

I looked up to where Nightingale stood but he didn't move, watching us, watching the darkened halls.

"Follow me," he said so suddenly I could barely stop myself from jumping. 

Nightingale looked like death when we headed down the halls. We walked all the way back towards the rear entry and I'll freely admit that I followed with some trepidation. Feel free to judge me, but only if you can claim the thought of a ten foot tall hairy spider _doesn't_ unsettle you. I'll call you a liar anyway. 

Even Molly appeared hesitant, but we saw neither hide nor hair of the spider. 

We even dared to step outside but this time there was no movement around the mews.

"It was right there," I said, pointing up at the wall illuminated by Nightingale's werelight.

"Peter, I'm afraid that's impossible."

"I know what I saw."

"The building is warded against magic. Nothing magical can sit on those walls."

I swallowed the comment about radioactive spiders that lay on the tip of my tongue and asked whether the accident from earlier this day couldn't have affected the wards, which Nightingale negated.

"I would have noticed if the wards had been damaged."

"So how did it get in?"

"It didn't."

"We all heard it. If the wards are still up how did Shelob get into the hall?"

"Shelob?"

"The spider from Lord of the Rings. It looked exactly like the one from the movie," I added, thinking it would make me sound less foolish.

"How did she get into the Folly, sir?" I repeated to bridge the ensuing silence.

"She – it – is not real."

"Sure looked like it." I found myself swallowing. "You heard it too, in the atrium, right?"

Oh, _please_! I couldn't have woken the house over a nightmare. I'd have had to leave the country if I did.

"You believe me that I saw it?"

"I believe you." More than a little relief flowed through me when he said that. "Because I, too, saw the spider."

"Inside?"

"In the atrium."

I couldn't help but stare.

"When?"

"Right before you started shouting. It disappeared when you entered."

"But you say there is no spider?"

"Correct."

"Then how come we both saw one."

Nightingale pretended to think for a moment. 

"Your waffles. Do you still have the bag?"

"Why?"

"This apparition, it's quite like what the students saw, don't you think? A visual and auditory hallucination."

"But Molly heard it as well! She hissed at it, and she didn't have any waffles."

At the mention of waffles said maid looked at me all suspicious. I dreaded what could happen if Nightingale turned out to be right and it turned out that by rejecting Molly's cooking skills I had ended up poisoning the two of us. It's a terrifying experience to be on your cook's shitlist. 

"Get the bag. I'll explain it to you if my suspicions prove to be correct."

I did as he said but couldn't help feeling jumpy all the way towards the coach house. However, no giant spider jumped at me out of the shadows. I still felt relieved when we were all back inside the Folly, even though a sense of foreboding overcame me when Molly looked at the paper bag with disdain before she headed back downstairs. 

There was no trace of vestigia to be sensed from the paper bag, but Nightingale took it to the lab regardless. 

I spend the half hour it took Nightingale to emerge from the lab pacing up and down the atrium. It was a nice open space. Lot's of space to see a spider before it could pounce on you. 

There was nothing else for me to do anyway, and there was no way I was going back to sleep with the thoughts of hairy legs and the clicking of claws still fresh on my mind – so fresh that I still thought I heard the spider rustling in the shadows from time to time.

At last, when I was about ready to trawl the internet for a giant shoe to ship overnight, Nightingale returned with his suspicions confirmed.

"I believe we're dealing with alps."

"Alps?" I asked. "Like the mountain range?"

A wry smile appeared on Nightingale's face.

"The word's similar and they're part of that region's folklore as well, but the mountains have nothing to with our alps. The word is actually related to _alfr_ or _elf_. They're a kind of fae."

"And they make waffles?"

Nightingale made a patient face. "They're dream-eaters. Folklore makes them responsible for nightmares, which they use to sap a person's life-energy. But in fact they can feed on all types of dreams."

"They _eat_ dreams? How?" 

"They don't just 'eat' them. They both feed on them and seek to inspire them." 

He must have read off my face that his response wasn't very helpful. 

"Do you remember how revenants feed of a person's magical energies?" he continued. "Alps are like that, but less harmful. There's no actual magic in these waffles. They used a rather more natural recipe to manipulate dreams, but still powerful."

"Sapping life-energy through nightmares doesn't exactly sound healthy."

"It's just folklore and superstitions. Their feeding doesn't injure or kill."

I had to think of the girl who ended up in the hospital and found I disagreed. 

"But these waffles don't inspire dreams, they cause hallucinations."

"Yes. My theory is a couple of alps decided a young, creative student body experiencing particularly vivid day dreams would make for an interesting change of menu."

I didn't like the sond of that at all. 

"So what do we do about these alps?"

I had accepted in my heart that he was right before he even returned. There had been powdered sugar in the library and according to the girls manning the stall sales happened regularly enough for them to account for the repeated sightings of ghosts and monsters over the last couple of months.

"We find them and have a little chat about ancient contracts."

Knowing Nightingale I couldn't imagine the alps would enjoy this chat very much. I had to think about Paula again. I should have realised right away she was too enchantingly attractive to be human. She'd convinced me to buy half a dozen waffles with nothing but a smile.

"The girl who sold the waffles seemed genuinely nice."

Nightingale gave me an infuriatingly pitying look. I didn't need to be reminded of Simone. This wasn't like Simone. She hadn't even known she wasn't human. 

But what if Nightingale was wrong? The chance was small, admittedly. But what if?

"They probably don't realise the harm they're doing," Nightingale said.

"But none of this explains why we all shared the same hallucination. Even Molly."

Nightingale suppressed a little cough. "I'm afraid that's my fault. It appears high magical potential increases the potency of the hallucinations. The fact that we watched the same movie before going to sleep will have facilitated the creation of a shared illusion. In my case it was powerful enough to stretch to include Molly, even though she didn't ingest the same substances we did."

Great. So I wasn't even powerful enough to have my own magic waffle hallucinations, while Nightingale could project all of Middle-Earth into the Folly for everyone to see. I should have anticipated that someone being able to understand my Lord of the Rings references came at a price.

But then a thought struck me. Something about what he said…

"Sharing an experience shortly before the mind rests can lead to stronger, shared hallucinations?"

Nightingale nodded slowly. "Yes. But unless we're talking about a larger group of people it'd require some magical skill."

"A large group? Like a class of students watching a movie?" 

Or a movie club. Paula had been so gleeful at the prospect of providing them with snacks. 

With my like the club were probably watching horror movies this week.

* * *

I returned to the campus the next day, this time with Nightingale in tow. The booth was back, and so was Paula. But when it came to the arrest and bringing the full force of the Folly down on her I chickened out. 

It was impossible not to think of the jazz vampires, and the Quiet People – all the supernatural creatures I had encountered that had meant no harm. At once I was convinced I could talk Paula into coming quietly rather than resorting to force. Or rather, I was convinced of it after Nightingale had explained to me that alps weren't physically dangerous. They possessed no claws, no fangs and no super-strength.

After a moment's hesitation Nightingale agreed to my proposal of talking to Paula alone first, and I couldn't help but hope this was a sign of his growing trust in me.

I walked over to the stall looking nonchalant. In these situations you can't go about arresting supernatural folk looking like you're going to arrest supernatural folk. Especially when there's civilians around. 

Paula smiled her brilliant smile at me when she saw me. "A returning customer!" she said flashing her white teeth.

I checked to see that her blonde colleague was busy with the merchandise before I approached her. Well, there was no way around this.

"I'm not here for waffles, I'm afraid." I showed her my ID and her eyes grew round. "Could you please step outside, ma'am? This is a health and safety issue." It wasn't even a lie. 

"Why? How?" She showed little intention to obey immediately, like any innocent citizen would. The blonde girl looked up at her confusion.

"Please, just step out here for a moment, and I'll explain."

Paula threw her friend a confused look, but eventually obeyed and walked through the little door at the back of the booth. 

"What is this about?" she asked when she stood next to me. She sounded as annoyed as confused.

"Some incidents at the university library have been linked to your merchandise. Hallucinations and—"

"What?"

"One girl had to be hospitalised after she took a fall."

"What? No!"

"Paula." I looked into her eyes and held her gaze. "I know what you are. This has to stop. There are contracts—"

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

The door of the stall slammed and I could have kicked myself. The little blonde girl was making a run for it.

It wasn't Paula who was the fae. It was her friend.

I took off after her, but she was swift as a wraith. We were out of the university premises within seconds and she was starting to leave me behind despite my longer legs. I had no choice but to turn to magic. _Impello_ sent her sprawling in the shadow of a nearby building. 

The alp was about to get up just as I drew to a halt next to her.

She looked different in the shadows. Paler. More gaunt, but not like you might expect a creature that subsided on dreams to look. Like many supernatural creatures I had encountered she looked human.

"Stay down for now, please." 

She turned to look at me with her pale blue eyes, looking frightened.

"You're a police wizard?" She must have noticed my spell's _signare_. 

"Right on the first guess."

"I didn't do anything wrong," she blurted out.

"I'm sorry, but that's where we disagree. And so does my boss."

"It's harmless! It's just fantasy. How can fantasy hurt anybody?"

I took a deep breath. The alp really appeared not to know what she was doing.

"You're drugging people. Don't tell me you don't know that's wrong."

She disagreed. "There's so much potential in there!" she pleaded, looking back the university buildings. She sounded genuinely distressed at my lack of understanding. "But it's so stifled! So many stifled dreams! We only meant to free them for the harvest."

"You can't keep doing this," I continued. Her use of 'we' did no escape me. "Someone already got hurt. A girl is in the hospital. Is that really what you want?" 

She said nothing and lowered her eyes.

"Some of us have more powerful fantasies than others." I tried not to think about salivating maws under rows and rows of eyes but without much success. "You drugged me too by accident, and I'm a magician. You know how that affects your products. What if someone on campus has magical potential without realising it and sends their fantasy to all their classmates. It'll cause a panic. Do you really want to be responsible for that kind of chaos?" 

She remained silent, sitting on the asphalt.

"Do you really want more humans to get hurt?"

"Charlotte!"

I cursed silently. Paula had followed us. I pulled out my badge again and told her to stay back.

"What's going here?" she demanded. "Charlotte wouldn't harm a fly!"

"Paula." The fae with the mundane name of Charlotte gazed up at her friend and fell silent again, evidentially at a loss for words.

She looked at me soulfully and finally answered me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt." She turned back to her friend. "I'm sorry, Paula. I really got into trouble. I didn't mean to."

"It'll be alright," Paula responded. "I'm sure."

I doubted she was in a position to judge the mess Charlotte had caused but at least their friendship appeared to be real. 

The alp turned to look at me again. "I'll stop the sale. I promise."

I almost felt like sighing. I couldn't let her get away with a slap on the wrist based on trust and wishful thinking. 

"You have to come with me and talk to my DI."

She hung her head while Paula watched us warily, but eventually agreed.

As it turned out there was a small community of alps operating in London. They had kept low, except for the fact that they turned a blind eye to a couple of their youngest posing as students and integrating themselves into student activities that allowed them to manipulate their co-ed's dreams.

It didn't take Nightingale more than an afternoon from exchanging introductions to reminding them of the contracts between humans and faes and convincing them to shut-down their youngsters' activities for the good of both communities. Knowing they would be monitored from now on they felt so intimidated they even proposed to withdraw from London entirely, which Nightingale didn't deem necessary. 

Once the negotiations closed the Folly could report to the university that the incidents were expected to stop entirely, immediately. But Charlotte's fate and her punishment rested in the hands of her community. 

I asked Nightingale what they were going to do with her and her siblings, but he couldn't or wouldn't tell. He said he doubted they were going to punish her physically, but that it was unlikely that she would be allowed to set foot on campus again.

It wasn't the most satisfactory conclusion to a case, but at the very least the effects of the waffles seemed to have passed from my system as Shelob didn't return and I got a good night's sleep. 

Of course, Lesley had a good laugh at my expense when she heard the story the next morning over breakfast. 

So did Nightingale. In a way. 

"At least I now know your taste in movies isn't as bad as I was led to believe," he said just as Molly entered to bring a fresh can of coffee. She continued to glare whenever she looked at me for a couple of days. That's what I get for getting my boss high on waffles. At least she didn't pour coffee all over me out of revenge.

"If you liked them," I said, opting to focus on anything other than Molly's disapproving frown, "the cinemas are going to start showing the first of the prequel movies this year."

Nightingale looked nothing but confused.

"There's this other book that Tolkien wrote first, and –" Nightingale's confusion grew visibly, and I had to think of giant trolls and goblins stalking the Folly's halls. "Forget about it, sir. I'll let you know when they're on TV."


End file.
